Chapter 7 - THE MONDAY MORNING CALL
Monday morning arrived with the inevitability of a storm.
I was sitting in my father’s office at Harrell Plaza,
watching the news tickers on the wall.
CONWAY TECH STOCK PLUMMETS.
CEO SPENCER CONWAY UNDER INVESTIGATION FOR MISUSE OF FUNDS.
The door opened,
and my father’s secretary announced that Spencer was in the lobby.
“He’s begging for five minutes, sir.”
Raymond looked at me.
“Do you want to see him?”
“Yes.”
“I have some things to give him.”
Spencer walked into the office a few minutes later.
He looked like he hadn't slept in forty-eight hours.
His suit was wrinkled,
his eyes were bloodshot,
and his hands were shaking.
He didn't look at my father.
He looked straight at me.
“Phoebe, please. You have to talk to him.”
“The bank is freezing my personal accounts.”
“They’re taking the house.”
“I have nothing.”
I stood up and walked over to him,
holding a small manila envelope.
“You have these, Spencer.”
I handed him the envelope.
He opened it with trembling fingers.
Inside were the divorce papers I had signed that morning.
And a photo.
It was a photo of the navy-blue dress,
lying in the trash can outside our mansion.
“I don't want the house, Spencer.”
“I don't want the cars.”
“I don't even want the alimony.”
“I just want you to remember that dress every time you look at a woman like Paisley.”
Spencer looked at the papers,
a sob breaking from his throat.
“Phoebe, I’m sorry. I was a fool.”
“Yes, you were,”
my father said,
his voice booming from behind the desk.
“But being a fool isn't a crime, Spencer.”
“Misusing company funds to buy diamond necklaces for your mistress, however, is.”
Spencer’s head snapped up.
“How did you know about that?”
“I’m a Harrell,”
Raymond said.
“I know everything that happens in this city.”
“The board has already filed the police report.”
“You’ll be lucky if you don't spend the next ten years in a jumpsuit.”
Spencer collapsed into a chair,
the weight of his reality finally crushing him.
He had reached for the stars and ended up in the dirt.
I felt no joy in his suffering.
Only a profound sense of relief.
The man I had loved was gone.
The man standing before me was a stranger.
“Goodbye, Spencer.”
“I hope the diamonds were worth it.”
I walked out of the office,
the sound of his weeping fading as the heavy doors closed.
The sun was shining over Euclid Avenue.
May you like
The air felt clean.
The world was waiting.
